


A Slice Of Life When Life Never Ends (short)

by Iminthiscorner



Category: Furry - Fandom, Fursona - Fandom, Supernatural
Genre: Angst, F/M, Fluff, Furry, Fursona, Gen, Lots of Angst, Original Character - Freeform, Original Character(s), Please Don’t Hate Me, Slice of Life, Supernatural - Freeform, Supernatural inspired, i turned Lucifer into a furry and made him his own lore, supernatural (freeform), supernatural oc, tv show inspired character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-05
Updated: 2020-07-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:27:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25093849
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Iminthiscorner/pseuds/Iminthiscorner
Summary: a short drabble, in which the devil starts his day off badly.
Relationships: divorced - Relationship, ex-wife - Relationship, mentions of ex-wife - Relationship, past love - Relationship, past lovers - Relationship, solitude - Relationship
Kudos: 2





	A Slice Of Life When Life Never Ends (short)

**Author's Note:**

> I’m not really sure what inspired me to sit down and write this other than my own experiences with bad dreams and how they effect the rest of your life, and such. Or in this case, dreams about those who don’t love you anymore...

Warmth, warmth. A warm scent, something like vanilla, roses, and honey, her scent had always been so recognizable and intoxicating to him, and the feeling of being held- but as his dream climaxed, there was a sudden change in his environment. Just as the sea washes away things that dare linger too close to it, her scent was emptied from his mind; and all he could smell was the stale sense of nothingness that encompassed himself and his room. He opened his eyes, wrinkling his long, narrow snout at the scentless, icy air washing through his palette. The distant roar of his A/C was now filling his senses, and today, for some reason, just the simple event of his air conditioning whirring to life was enough to overload him. He rolls over onto his back, thrashing away from the warm blankets that had swallowed him up and whisked him away into such a peaceful sleep. He hated to leave them so soon, but the least of his worries at the moment was the sudden lack of warmth. Stumbling into his hallway in nothing but a t-shirt and briefs, he frantically turns off his air conditioning as fast as he can, his perpetually clammy fingers fumbling with the control panel. After a few tense moments he manages to turn it off, and once he finds himself encased in silence once more, he just stands there for a while. He doesn’t even really understand what the rush was anymore, turning off his air conditioning didn’t do anything but make his house quiet again and leave him more alone with his thoughts.

_Did I really think.._ he ponders, lumbering back down the hall to his bedroom, shivers already taking over his large body _, did I really think that turning off my air conditioning would bring back her scent? I’ve been clean of it for years. I’ve been clean of her for years. A simple altering of my surroundings isn’t going to bring back anything but the resounding pain that I am a solitary being._

He lays down on his bed after rearranging his blankets into a more settled state, his feet nearly hanging off the edge of it as he stretched out and stared at his ceiling. The days where he dreamed about her were always more hard than the normal ones, he was left reminiscing and thinking of his own lonely eternity for the rest of the day afterward, sometimes even the day after. His life, and his existence, had been so full of danger and love and lust and adventures, but the longer he was left to rot away in his own home while enslaved to his career that he held so close to his heart, he began to wonder if he was ever meant to feel those things again. His mind was hardened, concrete, and he had reassured himself time and time again that there was no need to fight it; there was no need to fight the feeling of becoming stagnant, and no need to ever seek love again. God had always meant for him to be alone from the very beginning and he knew that, right?

_Why does it hurt so much?_

This was something else The Devil found himself questioning often. If he was truly meant to be alone, and if he was supposed to die the slowest death known to mankind without a soul to question his absence once he no longer existed, why did it still burden his soul? Perhaps, in his time on earth, he had learned too much empathy; or maybe through his suffering and the breaking of his mind, he had been beaten into sensitivity. He had spent so long being subjected to neglect and torture that there was perhaps nothing that could ever reverse the things that had been done to himself; and there was nothing that could sway how he felt about himself and his surroundings. There was no desensitization in sight for Lucifer.

He crosses his arms over his chest, his sharp, curved, and meticulously gentle claws rasping lightly against the skin of his arms as he rubbed his shoulders in an attempt to warm himself.

_I wonder if they knew what they were doing. My Father, and my siblings. I wonder if they could see ahead, as they claim to be of the ability to do, and I wonder if they could see me now, even as I lay here. I wonder if they could foretell the deep set, soul crushing pain of solitude, and the ever-bearing weight of eternity on my shoulders. They reworked my brain to their liking, and injected into me rather ruthlessly the curse of empathy and emotion, and now I have no other choice but to marinate in it. Every day is a step closer to the darkness that will one day take hold of the world, and one day is a step closer to me floating aimlessly in space, or padding sorrowfully through the ashes and embers of what used to be a ripe and lively earth. Everything is dying. Everything is dying, and so am I, but never will I be able to accept the peace of death physically. I am experiencing a slow rot of my brain, and of my soul, and eventually I will no longer be able to process the things that occur to me logically. I will be a husk, regressed back to the state with which my captor had me, only able to cry and beg for the forgiveness of the god-like presence of humanity that is unable to even hear my plea._

He rubs his eyes with his palms, gritting them into his sockets slightly, trying to stop the tears threatening to form. He was the Devil. There was no point in crying, was there? He needed to take life by the horns, or perhaps himself by the horns, and get his head back into the things that mattered. Like his job. His job as a nurse. He loved his job, and many times, it was what motivated him to get out of bed in the mornings. He had studied long and hard; learned of sickness, and medicinal usage, and the act of tending others back to health. It was the only difference he could make in this world, but he was determined to perform it to the best of his ability. He sometimes pondered how he ended up like this; so far from his natural role. Being manipulated and shamed for the expanse of time he had, he supposed, had taught him to fear himself as a monster. He, despite hating all humans and the earth as a whole, could not live without them. He loved them. He loved the unloveable creatures that he was forced to share his home with, and that was for a reason that was as simple as it was complex. In learning to care for them, they had saved him. They had given him a sense of purpose and a reason to keep going. Sure, he wasn’t perfect, and nor were they; but regardless of his mistakes that happened rather sporadically, he was rewarded for his efforts. Told he was a good man. A gentle giant. The epiphany of tender, love and care, and of being passionate about one’s job. No matter how many times he heard those words; and no matter how many times he was called good, it never got old. He could never grow tired of it. Those were words he had been seeking his whole life. It wasn’t that they would ever truly change how he felt about himself, but they were constant reminders that he was truly making a difference with his craft, and his work, and that for once his efforts weren’t in vain. After the departure of his beloved, he had sought a job and a purpose for many months, and nursing had been the one thing out of many other opportunities to interest him. He had a job before her, of course- or a couple. He bounced from place to place, working where he could, making an honest living and trying to get by with minimal knowledge of what made the odd world around him work in the ways it did. When she had come along; due to her past career choices, he hadn’t had to work anymore, and in giving in to the life she had tempted him with he became completely financially dependent on her. How foolish of him. He had sacrificed his job for love once before, but he would never, ever do it again. He didn’t miss being lazy one bit. Didn’t miss living off of the stock market, or being as lousy and as privileged as the very ones he had come to hate.

He rests with his paws clasped over his muzzle, hiding his eyes, and therefore hiding himself from the world. Sometimes he could still feel it. That feeling, that sense of bliss that he got when he was with her, like nothing could be better than it was for himself. Like his life had finally reached its peak, he had crawled up that great big mountain of sorrows, and he was all set. If only he had known how wrong he was then, to frolick through the sand with her at night like nothing could ever go wrong for him again. He only wishes that he’d have drank up every moment with her like a fine wine, because laying here, cold and alone, he truly felt like he’d never have anything close to the love he needed again. He could tell himself that it was fine all he wanted. Could rehearse over and over again in his head why his abstinence from anything remotely similar to love was mandatory; for both the safety of others and himself. But in the end, that didn’t make it any better for him. Not one bit. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t fine, because it hurt him so bad, and it was a fate worse to death to him. There was nothing that could take away or lessen the pain of loneliness for long, not even the job he’d so meticulously devoted himself to.

He hadn’t realized it, but the more he had been pondering all these things, the colder he had gotten. His body was tired, and he no longer wanted to be awake. It was odd he had gotten up today only to return to sleep once more, but times when he dreamed of his past or his love were always different for him than others, so he could excuse his own strange behavior this one time. Rolling over onto his side, his massive form causing the springs in his mattress to creak beneath him, he pulls his legs just a bit closer to his chest to conserve heat as he tries to drift off to sleep again.

_There,_ he thinks, closing his eyes. _This will do quite nicely to warm me up, and when I wake up from my nap, I can have a cup of tea and watch the news. Today is no different than any other.. I just had a bad dream and thought a bit too seriously about my time here, on earth, and my future. Luckily, the future is a long way away._

He drifts into sleep shortly after completing this last thought, warmth finally overtaking him for the first time since he had woken up just a few hours prior, hoping that his nap would give him better dreams and inspire him to take on the rest of the day with a different perspective.


End file.
